Killing the Secret

by Donna Welch Jones

  “Shit.” Toby swung around to run. “I’s gettin’ out of here!”

  Lexie stood from her hiding place and leveled her gun at the cousins.

  “Wilbur Langley, you’re under arrest for the making and distribution of methamphetamines,” Lexie said the words loudly and with authority.

  The men started running. Lexie fired a series of shots to Wilbur’s left forcing him to the right as she circled toward him. Toby disappeared into the woods. Wilbur sought cover in a cluster of trees.

  A big Indian “bird” flew from his perch knocking Wilbur to the ground. Wilbur yipped like a wounded pup. The breath escaped from his body with one heavy gasp. Wilbur’s long gray hair camouflaged his face as Tye reached down and pulled him up by his shirtfront.

  “Wilbur,” Lexie’s voice was friendly, “glad we finally caught up with you.”

  “That fool nearly broke all my bones. I ain’t a big horse like him.”

  “Could’ve been worse,” Tye retorted. “If I hadn’t fell on you, I probably would’ve really gotten hurt. Unfortunately, you’re so boney I may have a puncture wound.”

  “Let’s go,” Lexie ordered. “There’s a jail waiting for you.”

  “Now, you don’t want to lock up a man who might help you solve that murder, does you?”

  “What murder is that?” Tye said nonchalantly.

  “That town woman I found dead in these woods.”

  “If you know something about the murder, Wilbur, you better speak up fast. I’ll charge you with withholding evidence, child neglect, and the multiple drug charges you’ve built up over the years. If you don’t live past a hundred, you’ll never be free again,” Lexie warned.

  “I just said I might could help. Sometimes my memory fails me when I ain’t being rewarded for my good behavior.” Wilbur squeezed his stubby chin.

  “What kind of reward do you think you deserve?” Tye asked gruffly.

  “The sort that lets a man go loose in the woods instead of going to jail.”

  “It’s not happening,” Lexie shrugged. “You know, with your poor memory, you might just make-up something.”

  “My memory is comin’ back.”

  Tye shook his head. “Congratulations, Sis. It must be your lucky day. The criminal is remembering something to save his own ass.”

  “For instance, where you found her body ain’t really where she died,” Wilbur’s lips formed into a sneaky grin.

  “That so?” Tye responded.

  “Sure is. One of my kin moved the body ‘cause it was too close to his work. He don’t want no intruders on his property.”

  “I’m interested,” Lexie said. “Where is this place?”

  “Oh, I can’t tell you that. This guy’s a mean one, likely to shoot me in the head if I mess up his operation.”

  Lexie placed her hands on her hips. “So far, Wilbur, you haven’t told us anything that would earn you a get-out-of-jail free card.”

  “I’m gettin’ there.”

  “It’s a slow trip,” Tye quipped.

  “I found something under the body that’d help you find the culprit.”

  Lexie responded, “What’s that?”

  “Can’t say. That’s the part keeps goin’ in and out of my brain.”

  “Well, the next time it enters your brain, tell me quick,” Lexie suggested. “Who knows? I might try to help you with the sad predicament you’re in.”

  “I’ll scratch your back, if you’ll scratch mine,” Wilbur winked.

  “There’s not going to be any back scratching today,” Lexie said, “considering your memory problem.”

  “You’ll change your mind, Sheriff Girlie.”

  Lexie grabbed Wilbur’s arm and pulled him toward the car. She pushed him in and handcuffed him to a bar in the back seat.

  “I’ll see you back at the office,” Tye called to Lexie as he walked toward his truck.

  Wilbur was silent on the trip back to the jail.

  Occasionally, a groan from the backseat revealed the aftermath of having a two-hundred pound “bird” fall on him. His odor enveloped every crevice in the car.

  Lexie rolled down the window and the warm wind brushed against her face. She felt the tears build up in her eyes. A few escaped, and she smoothed them into her face. Her passenger didn’t know it, but she’d make a deal with the devil himself to catch Abbey’s killer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Diffee newspaper reporter, Adam Cox, was waiting for her when she arrived at her office. He reached down from his near dizziness-producing height and opened the car door. His long skinny fingers reached out in an attempt to help her out of the car. She ignored his assistance. Apparently, Adam hasn’t grasped the concept of personal space. She squeezed herself between him and the door.

  “Sheriff Wolfe,” Adam said as eyes narrowed on her face, “I want to write a story about your capture of Wilbur.” He stood about eighteen inches from Lexie, towering six to eight inches above her head. Lexie backed up, leaving a couple of yards between them.

  “Sorry. No exciting news here.” Lexie rubbed her aching temple.

  “Wilbur has gotten away from sheriffs in this county for the last three years. It’s big news that you caught him. How’d you do it?”

  “Just luck. Tye and I captured him in the woods when we were investigating Abbey’s death.”

  “Do you have an update on Abbey’s killer?”

  “The investigation is continuing.”

  “Do you have a suspect?” Adam probed, moving half the distance Lexie had maneuvered between them.

  “Not at this time.” Her words reminded her of interview instructions from her cop courses.

  “How soon before you make an arrest?” Adam edged closer to Lexie. She wondered if they taught him that move in high school journalism.

  “Goodbye, Adam.”

  Lexie returned to the car and unlocked Wilbur from the back seat. She escorted him into the office.

  Delia sat at the three-legged table while she compiled all the information from Abbey’s murder. She glanced up when the two entered the room—then she quickly returned to her work.

  Clay sat at his desk. His shoulders slumped and his chin rested on his chest. His bloodshot eyes followed Wilbur and Lexie into the room.

  “Who told Adam about Wilbur’s capture?” Lexie’s lips tightened.

  After a long pause, Clay spoke. “I did. We needed something so the town won’t think the sheriff’s office is a total joke. People ignore me since Abbey was murdered.”

  Lexie wearily shook her head. “They cross the street when they see me coming. Anyway, don’t ever phone the newspaper again without clearing it with me.”

  Clay nodded and turned back toward his desk.

  “Another thing, go home and sleep off your drunk.” Lexie hoped the contempt in her voice stung through his alcoholic haze.

  “Yes, boss.” Clay used the desk to leverage himself out of the chair then walked slowly toward the door.

  “Ain’t you goin’ to speak to me?” Wilbur said gruffly as he faced the back of Delia’s head.

  “Hadn’t planned on it.” Delia’s eyes didn’t stray from her paperwork.

  “Too good for me, hey?” Wilbur’s smoke and weather exposed face tightened leaving squinting eyes in a bed of lines and wrinkles.

  Delia swerved her chair to face him. “Yes, I am. About anyone is too good for a drug selling fool.”

  “You didn’t have such a sharp tongue when you was a cute little gal in school. As I recall, you were sweet on me then.”

  “With age comes wisdom. Thank God!” Delia turned back to her work. Her conversation with Wilbur was obviously over.

  “Get in your new home, Wilbur.” Lexie held the cell door open.

  “Well, thanks! I’ve been needin’ a rest.”

  “I’m thinking you’re going to have a long one. However, most of it won’t be here. You’ll be moved to county jail after court.”

  “If you change your mind about
me helpin’ you find that murderer, you just speak right up, Sheriff Girlie.”

  “If you decide to assist me so you can get a reduced sentence, you do the same,” Lexie responded.

  “No can do, Sheriff Girlie. It’s all—or nothing.”

  “I choose nothing,” Lexie snarled.

  Wilbur’s laugh exploded out of his mouth. “Half the people in this town want to fire you. Another fourth wants to lynch you. You need me more than I need you.”

  “You do have a good point, Wilbur. However, unlike you, I can leave this town within twenty-four hours and never look back. On the other hand, you’re sixty-two and likely will spend the rest of your life in the state pen. So you might want to reconsider who needs whom the most.”

  Delia snickered.

  Wilbur clamped his lips shut and flopped down on the cot. He was snoring loudly within ten minutes.

  “That man is obnoxious,” Delia said. “Any news on the case?”

  “We can’t talk about it as long as Wilbur is here. He may be faking sleep to get more information. His preliminary hearing is at three. After that, we’ll start calling people in for interviews.”

  “Do you want me to pick-up a sandwich for you across the street?” Delia offered.

  “Yes, thanks. I’m not ready to face all the hate. Please get something for Wilbur, too.”

  Delia rolled her eyes.

  As Delia retrieved her purse and walked out the door, Lexie was wondering what the woman thought of her. Maybe she, too, believed that Lexie helped Abbey’s killer. Delia was more like a mother to her than her own. The thought of Delia’s possible disapproval brought Lexie’s ever-ready tears back to the surface.

  The back door slammed. Lexie sprung from her chair-ready to draw her gun.

  “And well you should stand in my presence,” Red laughed. His blue eyes lit with humor.

  “Don’t be so loud.” Lexie eased back in her chair. “Most of the town hates me. At any moment I expect to be drug to a hanging tree. What’s worse, you might have woken up the sleeping drug dealer. Trust me, he’s far more likeable asleep, in spite of the snoring.”

  “Sorry, Sheriff, I’ll try to be more gentle and dainty the next time I enter your presence.” Red shoved over the phone and sat on the edge of her desk.

  “To what do I owe this visit, Mr. Anderson?”

  “Just an offer of help. If you need anything, just ask. By the way, Tye and I saw no sign of Abbey’s car this morning when we flew over the area.”

  “I appreciate the offer. Right now I’m on hold until I get Wilbur to court,” Lexie said.

  Red reached down and pulled her to her feet. His muscled arms enclosed her and she felt safe for a few seconds.

  “I’m out of here. Got a paying customer this evening. Keep your chin up.” Red left as quickly as he arrived.

  Lexie went into the restroom to cry. Sometimes kindness was harder to deal with than scorn. Perhaps it was because she didn’t think she deserved forgiveness. She agreed with her enemies: Abbey was killed because she didn’t take her seriously. Now she needed to find the murderer before someone else died.

  She washed her face then brushed and braided her hair for the first time in two days.

  “Lunch is here,” Delia called from the other room.

  Lexie handed Wilbur his sandwich through the cell bars. She wrote notes as she chewed.

  Cecil Lansbury arrived soon after their trash was tossed in the can. He was 300 pounds of ruthlessness in the courtroom, but in person he was the closest thing Diffee had to a gentleman. His round baby-face defied his sixty-three years.

  “Hello, Miss Delia,” he said in a reverent voice.

  “Hello, Cecil. Why are you defending that scum?”

  Cecil’s voice was gentle and steady. “Everyone gets representation, Ms. Delia.”

  “I know, I know, but he doesn’t deserve the best attorney in the state.”

  Cecil blushed. “Thank you for that, Ms. Delia.”

  “Cecil, the three of us can walk over to the courthouse. I’ll find an office for you to meet with him privately,” Lexie offered.

  She unlocked the cell and handcuffed Wilbur. For some reason, he’d been very quiet since his nap.

  “Good day, Ms. Delia,” Cecil said.

  “Same to you.”

  During the walk to the two-story brick court building, Lexie passed Ruben and Sam sitting at their usual spot.

  “Hello,” she said. Neither man spoke. Ruben nodded and Sam diverted his eyes.

  Wilbur didn’t miss the slight. “Cecil, this Sheriff Girlie has more problems than I do.” Wilbur’s lips formed into a twisted grin.

  Cecil slowed his pace. “I don’t know anyone who has more problems than you do, Wilbur.”

  Upon arrival at the courthouse, Lexie found an empty office for the pair to have their consultation. She spoke briefly to Assistant District Attorney Cower.

  No one spoke to her, or even came near, as she waited on a long wooden bench outside the courtroom.

  She predicted that finding alone time wasn’t going to be a problem anymore.

  At five minutes before three, Cecil and Wilbur reappeared. The three made their way down the long aisle, passing rows of benches on either side. They separated when they reached the end. Lexie sat down at Cower’s table.

  The court clerk announced, “Judge Marcus Simpson presiding.”

  “DA Cower, state your case,” Judge Simpson commanded.

  Cower read a long list of charges including child neglect; making and distribution of drugs; and withholding evidence in a murder investigation. Cower asked that no bond be granted since Wilbur might disappear into the woods for another three years.

  Lansbury was then directed by Judge Simpson to speak. “My client pleads not guilty to all the charges. He wants to be released on his own merit so he can make a living for his family.”

  Judge Simpson slid his glasses down to the end of his nose and looked over the top at Lansbury.”

  “That’s absolutely ridiculous, Cecil.”

  “I know Your Honor, but that’s what Mr. Langley requested.”

  Cower stood up. “Your Honor, it has taken three years to apprehend Langley. If he’s released, he’ll disappear. Justice won’t be served and his drug clients will be.”

  “Well, I need to be fair, Cower,” Judge Simpson said. “I set bail at one million dollars.”

  “HELL!” Wilbur shouted. “No way can I come up with that kind of money.”

  Judge Simpson banged his gavel. “Transport this man to county jail. His trial will begin two months from today.”

  Wilbur’s ravings echoed throughout the courtroom. “It ain’t fair, havin’ to wait two months. You all have finagled me. You and Sheriff Girlie conspired against me that I’m crooked.”

  Simpson bounded his gavel vehemently. “I don’t conspire with anyone, Langley. I’ve decided I need a vacation in two months, so I’ll see you again in four. Get this guy out of my sight.”

  Officers grabbed an arm on each side and maneuvered Wilbur out of the courtroom.

  Wilbur’s voice was heard from the hall. “THANKS FOR ALL YOUR HELP, ATTORNEY ASSHOLE!”

  Cecil yelled back, “YOU’RE WELCOME!”

  Chapter Twenty

  The newspaper hit her front door with a bang. Lexie diverted her eyes from the ceiling that she’d stared at most of the night, and crawled out of bed.

  Her hair was down and stray hairs stood up in the front. Pajamas that kept sliding down her hips and a tattered t-shirt were her apparel of choice. The growling of her stomach made her realize that she hadn’t eaten since Delia brought her the sandwich. Food was not an appealing thought, so she went directly to retrieve the paper.

  The headline was three inches high:

  MURDER VICTIM ABBEY

  KING BURIAL TODAY

  Adam wrote Abbey’s history including a list of her family members. At the end he quoted Lexie’s statement about the investigation continuing.

&nb
sp; About mid-page was a one inch headline that read:

  NOTORIOUS DRUG DEALER

  APPREHENDED BY SHERIFF

  Adam had done his homework on Wilbur to obtain information. He summarized all previous news stories about Wilbur, as well as covered the court proceedings from the day before.

  Lexie went to her closet. She wasn’t sure what to wear. The black dress was appropriate but it made her feel feminine and vulnerable. Pulling her uniform off the hanger, she decided that she’d hide behind her sheriff’s badge. Too bad she didn’t have armor.

  She pressed the blue slacks and shirt. After shining her badge, she pinned it on her chest. Today, she’d pretend she had strength and power. Tonight, she’d allow herself to fall apart—alone.

  Lexie arrived at the office a little before eight. Tye, Delia, and Clay were already at their desks.

  “Delia, I need you to stay here and answer the phone,” Lexie said apologetically. “I’ll take your place as soon as the funeral is over. That way you can go to the family home.”

  “Yes,” Delia acknowledged as she slumped against the file cabinet.

  Lexie continued, “Tye, I need you to record everyone at the funeral who went to high school with you. There’s apparently a tie between that class and these murders.”

  “Will do.”

  “Clay, I’m glad you didn’t wear your uniform because I need for you to blend in. Listen for speculations about why anyone would want to murder Abbey.”

  “I didn’t wear my uniform because I didn’t want to be on duty. Now I have to spy on the mourners?”

  “Exactly, Clay. You’re one of us whether it embarrasses you or not. People aren’t going to want to be seen with me, much less talk to me. I will be our eyes from the Baptismal loft,” Lexie said.

  “Tye and I will be back here at three to interview Jamie, Beth, Loretta, and hopefully, Mariah. You two don’t need to come back until tomorrow morning.” Lexie knew that she sounded like a drill sergeant, but that’s what she needed to be on this forlorn day.

  Lexie drove to the funeral alone. A group of four men stared as she exited her car.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” one of them hollered as she walked toward the church.